By His Vow: Chapter 31

I watch her go with my brows pinched in confusion.

What just happened?

I thought she was happy. I thought we were celebrating. But she looked about two seconds from vomiting right here.

Fuck. I can’t keep up with her emotions. They’re like a pendulum swinging from side to side but without any rhythm.

A hand lands on my shoulder, startling me.

“What the fuck are you doing? Go after her,” Kian says in my ear.

“I-I⁠—”

My eyes snag on Miles. Thankfully, he’s too distracted by the woman at his side to notice his sister’s sudden departure.

Briefly, I glance at his date.

She’s exactly the kind of woman I would usually bring to these kinds of events. She comes from money, is used to being around these kinds of people and events, and is happy to go along with anything provided it helps her climb the social ladder.

Kian’s date is the same. Beautiful, sure. But something tells me it’s only skin deep.

It’s only tonight that I’ve discovered how fake and unfulfilling that kind of date is.

Sure, it’s going to lead to a pleasurable night for both of them. But is that really enough?

That thought gives me whiplash.

Of course it’s enough.

That’s all I want.

Surface-level pleasure.

Fuck anything deeper. That’s not⁠—

My eyes turn toward the now-closed doors that Tatum ran through.

Or is it?

“But what if she doesn’t want me to,” I argue like a fucking pussy.

“And what if she does?”

His words linger in my mind for a few seconds before I take off in pursuit of my girl.

My girl…

More than a few people try to stop me to catch up and congratulate Callahan Enterprises on our success tonight, but I manage to dodge all of them.

Pushing through the double doors, I look left and then right, trying to decide which way she went.

The bathrooms are left, but the exit is right.

It takes me another second to decide, and I follow my gut.

She was lying to me.

I take off, my wide stride eating up the space between the event and the exit, and the second I storm through the doors and into the night, I discover that I was right.

“Tatum,” I shout when her gold gown catches in the hotel lights as she rushes toward where a taxi loiters by the curb.

She doesn’t look back or stop, but her steps do falter.

I take off running, refusing to give her a chance to escape. Or get farther, anyway.

She’s about to reach for the back door of the car when I get to her. Wrapping my fingers around her upper arm, I manage to drag her back before she makes contact with the handle.

“Tatum,” I growl.

“Let go,” she says, refusing to look up at me.

“No. I’m not letting you run from me,” I argue, pulling her into my body and wrapping my arms around her. “What’s going on, baby?” I ask, my voice softening as my heart rate begins to slow.

I want to say it’s racing because I chased her, but I fear it might be for another reason.

She keeps her eyes locked on my chest, refusing to connect with me.

Reaching out, I tuck two fingers under her chin and give her little choice but to look up at me.

My breath catches at the emotion glistening in her eyes.

“Tatum?” I whisper, hating the sight of tears barely holding onto her lashes. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

She shakes her head, biting down on her bottom lip in an attempt to stop it from trembling.

“I need to leave,” she finally says.

“Okay,” I agree, trying to force a smile onto my lips. “All you had to do was say so.”

She stares up at me, her eyes saying all the things she’s refusing to do with words.

She wanted to leave without me.

Yeah, not happening.

“Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

“I can take the⁠—”

“Absolutely not,” I growl as I entwine our fingers to stop her from escaping again.

Pulling some notes from my pocket, I push them through the window at the waiting driver before apologizing and taking off toward the valet.

I pull a ticket from my pocket and pass it over, much to Tatum’s confusion.

“I had Lewis bring my car.”

“Why?”

Turning her into my body, I press my hand to her lower back and pin our hips together.

Desire races to my dick, making it swell against her.

“I thought we could do our own thing tonight.”

She nods once before leaning forward and resting her head against my shoulder and wrapping her arms around me.

My heart thumps against my chest as I think about how intimate we look right now.

But instead of checking to see if anyone is taking a photograph, I lower my head and press my lips to her hair.

She shivers against me, goosebumps rising on her skin. Wrapping my arms around her, I attempt to keep her warm while we wait.

It shouldn’t be long.

Silent seconds pass as we stand there waiting.

There are so many things going unsaid between us, but I can’t find the energy to say any of them because I don’t want to ruin this. Whatever this is.

Eventually, a familiar rumble hits my ears and when I look up, I see my Aston Martin moving closer.

“Time to go, baby,” I say, reluctantly peeling her from my body and leading her toward the car.

She barely glances at my car, which is a damn shame because she’s beautiful. Almost as beautiful as the woman who’s about to get into the passenger seat.

It’s not until I join her and grip the wheel that she speaks.

“Are you sure you should be driving?”

“I would never put you at any risk, Tatum. You have my word.”

No sooner than I deliver that promise do I press my foot on the gas, and she shrieks in shock as we dart forward.

“Put your belt on, baby. I’m about to rock your world.”

“In a car this small?” she deadpans, looking back to find there aren’t any seats. “I highly doubt it.”

I make a mental note to take her out in my Range Rover one day soon before I take a right that will lead us to the freeway and really let her see what my girl can do.

“Oh my god,” she gasps. “Are you sure you’re not drunk?”

I chuckle. “I’m sure. Now relax. We’re going to be driving for a while.”

“Why? Where are we going?”

“Will you shout at me if I say that it’s a surprise?” I edge.

She shoots me a glare and I grin back at her.

“This is a good one.” I hope.

“I’ll reserve judgment for now.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else,” I say as I change lanes to head out of Chicago.

“Get comfortable.” I turn the music up.

“Comfortable?” she balks. “Have you seen the size of the underwear I’m wearing right now? There is nothing comfortable about wearing a skin-tight body sock to keep all your wobbly bits in.”

“You don’t have any wobbly bits.”

“You just haven’t had a chance to see them yet.”

Yet.

“Are you sure about that?” I counter, glancing over and letting my eyes trail down her body.

“Stalker,” she mutters lightly.

“I think you secretly like it.”

“And I think you’re delusional.”

Silence falls between us as I drive, but it’s not uncomfortable. If anything, it’s the complete opposite.

Eventually, though, the question nagging at the back of my mind becomes too much to ignore.

“Why did you run earlier?”

“King.” She sighs, sinking lower in the seat and wrapping her arms around herself. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You freaked out,” I muse, hoping that if I get close enough to the truth she might just confess.

She grunts, confirming that I’m on the right track.

“Because I kissed you.”

She shakes her head.

“You can’t tell me that you didn’t want it. I can read you, Tatum. I know you did.”

“King, that’s not⁠—”

“So, what was it?”

“Nothing?”

I chuckle. “Sure. Where were you going to go?” I ask, changing tactics.

“I don’t know. I’m not even sure I’d have gone. I just…I needed a moment. Everything got too much. Kian said something and⁠—”

“Motherfucker. Do I need to break his nose?”

She laughs sadly. “No. He didn’t mean anything by it.”

“What was it?” I edge, doubting that she’ll confess.

“He said that I’m good for you. That you’re different now that we’re…whatever we are.”

“Getting married?” I ask.

“Hmm.”

I take a turn, letting her hum linger between us while I think about what she’s trying to tell me.

We’ve probably covered another five miles in silence before it hits me.

“You thought I was going to propose,” I blurt, mentally patting myself on the back for figuring this woman’s mind out.

“N-no, that’s⁠—”

“Yes, you did. That’s why you looked so horrified when I moved and refused to look at me.”

“King,” she warns, letting me know that I’m right.

“Did you want me to?”

“NO,” she shrieks, sitting up straighter.

“Okay, so why are you upset that I didn’t?”

“I don’t know, okay? Everything is so fucking confusing right now. I don’t know if I’m coming or going or which way is up.”

“I get it. Trust me, I do,” I assure her.

“Do you? Because from where I’m standing, everything is just rosy in your world. You’re growing your empire, winning awards, and not batting an eye about suddenly having to share your life and your home with me. This massive thing has happened and you’re just acting like it’s another day. Like you’re not about to promise yourself to your best friend’s sister and pretend to the world that you’re madly in love.”

“Things could be worse,” I confess, amused that she thinks I’m handling this that easily.

“Things seem pretty fucking bleak to me right now.”

“Then you’re not looking at it the right way,” I muse, casting a glance her way. “Right now, you’re sitting in the front of my car, looking hot as fuck.”

She shifts in the seat, making me wish it were lighter so I could see the blush that blooms on her cheeks.

“You know, you still didn’t tell me that I looked good tonight,” I tease, remembering our conversation from earlier.

Her attention makes my face heat as I focus on the road ahead.

“I’m pretty sure your ego is already inflated enough. You don’t need me making it any bigger.”

“But you think I look hot?”

She sighs. “Yes, Kingston. You look hot in a dinner suit.”

“Now was that so hard to confess?”

She thinks for a moment, refusing to answer.

“How long are we driving for?”

“Get comfortable,” is the only answer I give.